


Sweet Girl

by yespolkadot_kitty



Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Smut, Lazy Sex, Morning Sex, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24771940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: Lazy morning sex after Catfish has been away for a while.
Relationships: Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61





	Sweet Girl

  
  


The morning light spills in, one ray of sun at a time, through the curtains and on to your bed. You stir, the warmth of the sheets above you a deterrent to waking up, and beside you, Catfish moves slightly, mumbles, still dozing.

You move over to snuggle up to him, and he smells of the bitter tang of coffee, of the cedarwood body wash he uses in the shower, and something not  _ quite _ definable but completely his alone, and he lifts an arm, still sleepy, and you snuggle in backwards, back to his chest, and he rests his scruffy chin on your head and sighs your name in that deep, husky-edge voice, and it’s everything.

You doze off again in his arms, and when you wake up again, your positions have shifted, you’re cuddled into him, your legs sandwiched between his, your torsos pressed together, close as you can get. Catfish is a big guy, tall and lean but muscled, and when he’s so soft and pliable like this, you can never get enough of how the scruff on his jaw feels under your palms, how his skin tastes when you flick your tongue over his collarbone, exposed by the loose, worn v-neck of his sleep t-shirt.

“Mmmmm,” he groans, opening one eye, that soulful brown gazing out at you for a moment before he closes it again, lashes dark on his cheeks. You snake your hand down his body and sure enough, he’s hard and curved against his belly, and an answering fire flickers between your own legs.

You burrow your face into the curve where his neck and shoulder meet and nose against the scruff on his jaw, and he murmurs approval sleepily. You let your hand curl around his cock, hard in his sleep pants, and he sleepily bucks into your hand, and oh, it’s  _ so  _ good, and you almost want to stay in this prelude to sex forever.

But as the sun continues to invade silently, the rays of warmth spilling on to more and more of your bed, Catfish has other ideas, pulling you as close as can be and moving to kiss down your neck, muttering your name against your skin, the flicker of his breath safe and warm, and you slide your free hand into his untamed tumble of hair -  _ fuck, you love his hair -  _ and luxuriate in the milk-chocolate locks.

“Need you, sweet girl,” Catfish mumbles into the hollow at the base of your throat, and clumsily you undress each other. You feel half-awake still, underwater, and he’s your anchor. His sleep clothes come off, and so do yours, making a little lump under the sheets, and then he rolls you under him, and you thrill to the press of his long, lean body, going a little soft at the edges, on top of you. You lift your legs and hook them around his hips and feel the press of him  _ there, _ and my God it steals your breath.

“You ready?” he murmurs, those brown eyes gazing into yours, soft and filled with love and lust and it flips your heart right over.

You smile suggestively. “I could be  _ more _ ready.”

Catfish smiles slowly, and presses a kiss to your lips before sliding down your body. You hear the soft swish as his feet push your nightclothes on to the bedroom floor and then he’s  _ there _ , facial scruff ghosting over your inner thighs, and you lift your knees to make a tent for him, and he growls, just softly, in his throat, before putting his tongue on you, and a little mewl escapes your lips.

You lay back, letting your eyes close as he really gets into it, eating you out like it’s an Olympic sport, and he’s  _ really _ good at it, having you seeing stars with just a few clever flicks of his tongue, and you moan his name as he burrows back up to you, and you lock him in with heels in his ass as he sinks deep into you, his hips cradled in yours, and you clutch at his shoulders and rub against the scruff on his jaw, welcoming the friction as he slowly, lazily, fucks you into the mattress. 

You lift your hips in time with his thrusts as little noises from the outside world filter into your consciousness, a car starting in the distance, the bark of next door’s dog, but you stay cocooned in the safety of Catfish’s arms as your orgasm spirals slowly through your belly, coiling tight.

“You with me, sweet girl?  _ Querida? _ ” Catfish asks, and you shiver at the way his voice drops half an octave when he speaks Spanish.

“Come with me,” you groan, clenching a fist in his hair, and he does, his thrusts sure and fast and deep as he spills everything he has into you, and it’s very, very good.

“Welcome home,” you say, stroking lazy circles on his back when he collapses on top of you, and he shudders with the little aftershocks of really excellent sex.

“Why did I leave again?” He mumbles, and he’s lax and sleepy again, and his voice is even huskier, and your heart splits in to with the intensity of your love for him. “Sweet girl,” he says once more, and you can tell he’s slipping back into sleep, still inside you, and you go with it and curl into him, and you stay there as long as you both want.

  
  
  
  



End file.
